


Glowing Embers (The Phoenix from Ashes Remix)

by Donna_Immaculata



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 08:57:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donna_Immaculata/pseuds/Donna_Immaculata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"To the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glowing Embers (The Phoenix from Ashes Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Man Who Lived](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/6028) by Beth H. 



> Written for the Remix/Redux Challenge

It was lucky Sirius was on a mission when they brought the boy in.

Remus, who was recovering from the previous night's full moon in the hospital wing, saw them levitate the stretcher past the long row of beds to the furthest corner of the room. Albus looked grave and Poppy scared, and it was the sight of one thin arm that slipped from under the cloth covering Harry's body and dangled lifelessly from the stretcher that made his throat contract. Beneath the remainder of the sleeve, thick with drying blood, he caught a glimpse of mangled flesh and the paleness of bone.

Mindless of his own fresh injuries, Remus rolled off the narrow bed and made for Harry's, clutching his side. It had been months since Snape had last had the time to brew the Wolfsbane Potion for him, and he had woken up that morning to find his ribs literally poking out from underneath his torn skin. But that was nothing; unlike Harry, he would heal quickly.

One look at the boy's white face was all they granted him. Harry's eyes were not-quite-closed and he could see glassy whiteness under his lowered eyelids, before Poppy resolutely pushed him aside and drew the screen around the bed. Remus fell back onto his bed, feeling that his taped ribs had split open again, and rolled cautiously onto his side. Warm blood trickled from underneath his bandages, ran down his stomach. The painkillers made him dizzy and sleepy, and he drifted into unconsciousness with Harry's weak moans and Poppy's and Dumbledore's urgently whispered conversation in his ear.

His brain felt thick and soggy when he woke up several hours later. The memory of what had happened last night returned all of a sudden and, dressing with slow movements, Remus ignored the cold lump of fear that he had wrapped up safely in indifference and stored away in the pit of his stomach. Panicking wouldn't do; he had to check on Harry.

He had barely finished doing up the laces of his robe when the door flew open and Sirius dashed in, his hair wild but his face cold as death. Behind him, Hagrid appeared in the doorway, wringing his balaclava in nervous hands. Sirius pushed Dumbledore aside unceremoniously and reached for Harry's hand with his own trembling one. As Poppy and Albus exchanged the most fleeting of glances, Remus knew that Sirius was only allowed to stay with his godson because the boy was lying on his death bed.

"There's been another attack, Professor," rumbled Hagrid from his position at the door. He, too, was white behind the thick thatch of his beard. "Yeh've got ter come and help."

With a quick look at Sirius, who had sank beside Harry's bed and was holding the boy's hand in a grip so tight it seemed he would squash the brittle bones, Dumbledore strode out of the room, followed by Hagrid and by Pomfrey, who disappeared in her office.

"Sirius?" Remus approached him cautiously. "Are you hurt?" There was blood on his robe.

Sirius shook his head, mutely.

Remus opened his mouth and closed it again. In that moment, a soft moan escaped Harry's throat and the boy stirred faintly, his lashes fluttered, and the bluish-tinted lips parted as his torso jerked up in a forceful convulsion that made him vomit all across the starched bed covers. With one easy motion, Sirius rolled the boy onto his side, gripped him around the chest and supported his head as Harry continued being mercilessly sick, spitting nothing but blood and bile. Remus snatched the glass of water from his own bedside table and stepped carefully over the puddle of vomit which was spreading out lazily across the floor. Sharp acidic smell hit his nostrils. He raised his eyes to Sirius' face and saw that his friend's lips were bitten and his eyes gleamed dangerously, even though he was making soft, soothing sounds in the back of his throat. Harry was convulsing in Sirius' grip, his frail body clenched and unclenched painfully, the back of his neck, his hair gleaming with a thick layer of sweat. Remus could smell its salty-bitter scent.

The moment the heaving subsided, Sirius grabbed the glass from Remus' hand and, rolling Harry's unresisting body back onto the bed, carried it to his lips. They had gone a nasty green colour. Harry's eyes rolled back into his head and he gave a thin keening moan.

"Drink this," Sirius said hoarsely. "You'll rip your stomach apart." Harry coughed and spat blood.

With a flick of his wand, Remus cleaned the floor and bed from the mess and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, watching Sirius pour water into Harry's half-open mouth with a shaking hand. One side of Harry's face was covered in livid purple bruises, a cut ran from his temple all the way to his chin, covered in encrusted blood and oozing puss. Vomit clung to his chin. Remus handed Sirius a moist flannel to wipe Harry's face.

"Why doesn't anybody do anything?" whispered Sirius. "Why doesn't Pomfrey do anything? He's been like that for hours, Remus. I've been sitting with him. They sent me away when Poppy examined him. They don't want to tell me. Anything." His eyes travelled down Harry's bandaged chest and the thin arm, wrapped heavily in white cloth which was already tingeing red with fresh blood. He was cradling the boy to his chest, almost curled around the thin body. Harry gave a shuddering breath and coughed again, and a rivulet of blood trickled from his mouth and down his chin. Sirius wiped if off mechanically. "Remus," he said. "Remus. Please."

"I get Poppy." Remus stood up. "She said Snape made a potion that'll help. I ask her-"

He was almost in Pomfrey's office when a loud thud behind him indicated that Sirius had leapt up to his feet so quickly his chair fell to the floor.

"Snape?" he hissed. "Snape! I'll kill him! I kill that bastard!"

Before Remus could so much as turn round, still half paralysed with the pain caused by his injury, Sirius had stormed out of the room and was running towards the dungeons. "Wait," Remus called faintly. "Sirius!"

Attracted by the noise, Poppy appeared in the doorway, her face drawn and tired. She was holding a small vial filled with transparent liquid in her right hand.

"What's going on?" she asked in a faint imitation of her usually brusque tone. "Where is Sirius gone?" And as Remus, out of breath with pain, merely shook his head, she continued, "I found the potion for Potter. I must have… misplaced it. All the confusion and panic…" Casting one glance at the corridor where Sirius had disappeared looking for Snape, Remus decided to see the results of the treatment first. He helped steady the boy and held his head up as Poppy poured a few drops into his mouth, massaging his throat to trigger the swallowing reflex.

The effect was as immediate as it was surprising. Harry's lashes fluttered against the grey skin, and his eyes focused slowly, but unmistakably consciously, on the faces above him. The pale, bloodied lips moved and Remus leaned in to catch the words.

"Professor… Lupin," Harry breathed. "Sirius… where's," he coughed, "Sirius?"

"I'll get him," Remus rose to his feet. "He will be with you in a minute, Harry."

Neither Snape not Sirius were in the dungeons and, pointed into the right direction by the Bloody Baron, Remus ran to the staff room, where he threw open the door just in time to see a murderous Sirius manhandle Snape, shaking him by the hair like a rag doll. Out of breath from the run, Remus stopped dead, clutching his aching side and leaning heavily against the door frame. For the briefest of moments, his gaze locked with Snape's, whose black eyes were wild with hurt and fear.

"I have no interest in listening to your endless caterwauling, Black. Lupin, take your pet, and…" Snape struggled weakly against Sirius' grip, but Sirius uses his additional height and weight well to his advantage.

With a snarled, "No time?" Sirius rushed at Snape, knocking the wand from his hand. He clutched at his head, still holding him fast by his hair. "I'll make you understand what it means to have no time, you bloody bastard! Do something for him, damn it, or I'll make you wish you'd never been born!"

The moment Sirius' nails slashed across Snape's face, Remus recovered from his temporary paralysis and, gripping Sirius by the back of his robe, pulled him away from the other man, shielding Snape's shivering body from the wraith of his friend and readying himself for a fight in which he would have to physically keep the opponents from getting at each other's throats. To his surprise, Snape drew back silently, pulled his robes tightly around himself and turned towards the door. Sirius, however, fell to his knees, his body rigid with tension, his voice weak and keening. "I let him die. I let him die. I'm so sorry, James. It should have been me."  
Remus felt Snape's presence still behind him; he probably stayed to watch and revel in Sirius' pain. Bastard. Gritting his teeth, he fought down the urge to turn around and slap Snape across the face to wipe off the cold smugness from those black eyes. He sank to his knees instead, draping his arms around Sirius' trembling shoulders and pulling the man into a tight embrace. "Sirius," Remus startled at the hoarseness of his own voice, "it's all right. Poppy says Harry's going to be all right. He's awake. He's…"

Black's head snapped up, red rimmed eyes narrowed and searching Remus' face in disbelief. "But Poppy said…"

Remus offered a crooked smile. "She was mistaken, Sirius. Harry's going to be fine."

"But the potion…"

"It was prepared as soon as Severus returned from his last meeting with Voldemort. He brewed it that very night, Sirius. Poppy thinks she had… misplaced it in all the confusion."

Sirius' eyes darted away from Remus and toward Snape. He swallowed hard, his eyes glinting. "Thank the gods!" he whispered, clutching Remus' arms briefly, tightly. Remus could feel the tremors running through his body as he was forming words which neither of them had ever expected him to utter. "Snape… thank you for... I'm sorry. I… I didn't know."

A wave of cold anger ran over Remus as he shifted his gaze from Sirius, who was shivering violently in his arms with his face burrowed in the hollow of Remus' shoulder, to the stiff black-clad figure hovering half-way to the door. Snape's face looked more sallow than ever, his eyes expressionless. Yet even as he was watching, Remus thought he saw the briefest flicker of understanding as those harsh features softened, and then, incredibly, Snape gave a curt nod of acquiescence before he turned away and - stood face to face with Albus.

Remus' start was perceptible only to himself. He hadn't noticed the Headmaster approach, and he very strongly suspected that Dumbledore had purposefully hidden himself to give them the opportunity to solve the crisis by themselves. He gritted his teeth with suppressed anger and felt a sudden wave of sympathy towards Snape, who was the first one to speak.

"Enjoy the show, did you, Headmaster?" Snape asked with a sneer.

Dumbledore reached out for Snape's shoulder, but the man pulled back before the hand reached him.

"Severus-" Dumbledore began. Clutching Sirius' dark head to his shoulder, Remus forced himself to breathe quietly. He wondered, not for the first time, whether Dumbledore enjoyed the displays of violence among his protégés. He had been standing there, simply watching.

Nothing had changed.

From his position on the floor, he could only see Snape's back, even though the man spoke in a low voice, his words were carried audibly across the room.

"If you'll excuse me, I believe I'll return to my laboratory and carry on with my work."

Dumbledore glanced at the untouched plate sitting on the sideboard. "You haven't eaten your supper, my boy."

Half-turning, apparently trying to avoid Dumbledore's gaze, Snape looked back at Remus and said, "I find I've lost my appetite."

Dumbledore sighed; a pained little sound that scraped on Remus' nerves. He made, however, no further attempt to stop Snape's exit, and only his eyes followed the man as he walked out of the door and down the hall.

Dumbledore sighed again, an old-man sigh, like the whisper of old, dusty parchment, and Remus averted his eyes. When he hid his face in Sirius' tangled, thick hair, Dumbledore's worried voice happened somewhere beyond the reach of his senses.

**~~**~~

"He's gone." Sirius' sharp voice split the silence in the staff room. Remus raised his head.

"What?"

"He's gone," Sirius repeated, raising his arm at waist-height and shaking the arm of the house-elf he had dragged in with him. "Grumpy here says she saw him leave." As he held the house-elf's wrist in a tight grip, the little creature was forced to stand on tip-toes with her arm stretched out high above her head. "And he left this behind." He thrust a crumpled piece of parchment into Remus' hand.

"That's right, Master Lupin, sir," piped in the elf. "But I is called Cheerie, sir, not Grumpy."

"Yeah, whatever," said Sirius indifferently. "So, what do you think, Remus?"

"There's nothing written on it."

"No. But Grumpy says he was pouring over it for ages. There must be something. Maybe he used a spell to conceal it?"

"That's right, sir," the elf went on blabbering, "I is making fire, I is seeing Master Snape at his desk, with his quill in his hand. Then he is putting down the quill and he is storming out of the room, almost knocking out Cheerie. I is then starting to clean the room, and Master Black is storming in, almost knocking Cheerie out, too…"

"It doesn't react." Remus had been tapping his wand against the empty parchment and muttering spells under his breath. "Maybe there's nothing written on it after all." He looked up. "Why do you want to read Snape's private letters anyway?"

Sirius shrugged. "It might give us a clue."

"A clue?"

"To the level of stupidity."

"Sirius-"

Sirius hissed. "Don't tell me you forgot? Dumbledore thinks Snape might do something stupid, now that he thinks he and his Dark Mark are useless. The idiot." He paused for a moment to give Remus time to study the parchment. "I think he's left. This is probably his suicide letter. Or his I-joined-the-Dark-Lord-again-goodbye-you-bloody-fools letter."

"I can't believe Snape would go over to Voldemort's side," Remus said firmly. "Besides, there's nothing written on this piece of parchment."

"If you think so. You're the expert." Sirius began pacing the room, forcing the house-elf to run to keep up with his long strides. "But I know there's something fishy afoot. I can feel it."

"Sirius. Let her go," Remus pointed.

"What?"

"Cheerie. Let her go."

"Oh. Right." Sirius let go of the thin arm. "What are we doing now?"

"Tell Dumbledore."

"Right."

**~~**~~

"Concentrate, Harry." Albus urged the boy on in a low voice. "You've got to tell us where he is."

His face screwed up in the effort of opening the connection between himself and Voldemort, Harry cowered in his chair. He had admitted that his scar had burned stronger than usually all evening, but still Voldemort's plans remained clouded from him. Harry's left leg trembled uncontrollably. Sirius put a calming hand on his godson's knee.

"Let him rest, Dumbledore. If Snape really went over to Voldemort, there's little we can do-"

"Sirius!" Remus, who had been keeping quiet so far, said all of a sudden. "Sirius. Snape didn't go over to Voldemort. He went to fight him. Give him some credit."

Sirius let out a bark of mirthless laughter. "I am giving him credit, Remus. I am giving him credit enough to think he's not so stupid as to tackle Voldemort on his own. He might be sadistic, greasy bastard, but he's not a complete moron."

"He's desperate, Sirius. And he's got nothing to lose. Or so he thinks." Remus began pacing Dumbledore's office, his steps muffled by the thick carpet. "We can't let this happen, even though it's only Sn-" he broke off with a side glance at Dumbledore. The headmaster was sitting beside Harry with Fawkes the phoenix on his lap. Behind him, Remus saw a sliver of the open window. The Forbidden Forest and the lake looked dark and peaceful and Hogsmeade flickered with the light of hundreds of candles in the far distance. The chilly night sky was clear and open, but as Harry suddenly gave one sharp cry and curled up like a flobberworm on a hook, Remus' breath hitched at the sight of a giant green shape shooting up from the grounds to the starry sky. Uncoiling like an enormous serpent, the green blur seemed to solidify in mid-air between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts. With uncanny instinct, acquired during the years on the run, Sirius immediately picked up Remus' tension long before the man could utter a word and turned around sharply to face the window. Harry moaned in pain, clutching Sirius' arm.

"He's killed someone!"

"Hogsmeade's being attacked!" Remus was almost at the door when a voice stopped him in his steps: a high, cold, terrible voice.

"It's been… too long since I've had the pleasure of your company, Severus."

Remus' wand appeared in his hand with the practised motion of a man used to danger. Sirius had frozen on the spot. His hand hovered inches above Harry's arm. Dumbledore alone seemed composed; the old wizard had slid from his chair and was now crouching in front of Harry, looking intently into the boy's face. The phoenix had fluttered to the arm of the chair and seated himself beside Harry, who, having slumped into a trembling, ashen-faced heap in his chair mere seconds before, now shot bolt upright.

"No, Severus… there'll be no last-minute heroics." Harry's pale lips curled obscenely around the hatred-filled words. Remus saw Sirius' eyes widen in shock and horror, saw Dumbledore glide to his feet in a motion much smoother and faster than one would expect from a man so old, saw the old wizard straighten up majestically, a wand appearing in his hand from nowhere, and heard the words, filled with warmth and emotion and love, float through the room, counteract the poison of Voldemort's voice.

"Oh, but there will be!"

The sound still reverberated through the office when Fawkes swooped down on Dumbledore in a flash of golden wings. His tail feathers barely brushed Dumbledore's outstretched fingers and both, bird and wizard, vanished from the room, leaving Sirius and Remus frozen in mid-motion and Harry staring transfixed into space.

"Where's he gone?" Sirius looked around wildly. "Where is he gone?"

Without another word, Remus thrust the door open. He was halfway down the spiral staircase when a thundering of heavy boots told his Sirius had left his godson alone and was following him to face Voldemort. Remus didn't slow down when he turned the corner leading to the entrance hall. Too late he noticed the silver shape floating in the air before him, but his momentum was carrying him forward and he shot straight through the figure of Nearly Headless Nick as though through a gush of icy water. Sirius cursed harshly, dashing forward and blasting the entrance door open with one spell. Remus whirled around in mid-run.

"Get Minerva!" He called after the ghost, who was staring at him with a mixture of indignation and alarm. "Send her to Albus' office! Harry's in there!"

They dived into the night air like into cold water. Hagrid's hut came into view as they ran across the grounds, melancholy with its dark windows. Sirius turned sharply to the right, tearing through the low bushes at the fringes of the forest. Remus wondered briefly why Sirius didn't cast the Lumos spell, only to realise in the next moment that the man was no longer there. Instead, he heard the soft pounding of giant paws as the dark shape of Padfoot disappeared in the thicket. Sharp blades of the high grass and low hanging braches sliced through the skin of his face and hands, and Remus sighed with relief when the forest thinned and he stumbled out on the other side, right under the grotesque face of the Dark Mark.

Sirius was already there, crouching on the ground. Beside him lay a still figure. Panting, Remus advanced on them with his lit wand held aloft. "What happened?" he whispered. "Who is it?"

He flinched at the sight of Sirius' face as his friend turned around wearing an expression of mingled fear and fury. "Snape," he barked curtly. "It's Snape."

With a steady hand, Remus directed the beam of light over the clearing and the trees and bushes in the background, before he returned it to Sirius and Snape. Both their faces were white as death, but on Snape's face - Remus took a step closer and directed the wand light straight at him, ignoring the way Snape's eyes narrowed - on Snape's face, a thin line had formed that had not been there before. A line - a wound - no, a scar, shaped just like a lightning bolt.

"Jesus Christ!" said Remus. Sirius lunged at Snape.

"Where is he?" he shouted, shaking Snape bodily by his shoulders as though the other man weighed nothing. "Where is Albus?"

Snape pushed Sirius hard in the chest, wrenched himself out of his grip and pulled out his wand. "Take your filthy paws off me!" he yelled, the wand quivering inches from Sirius' heart. "Don't you touch me or I blast you-"

"Sirius!" Remus, who hadn't stopped scanning the ground systematically, said in a tight voice. "Stop it. Look."

A look of utter horror spread over Sirius' face as he stared at the thin threads of ashes that were rising in the air where they got dispersed by the soft breeze. The ashes were criss-crossed by traces of green and red magic sparks so intense that they were clearly visible even against the brightness of Remus' wand light.

"Snape," Sirius said in a hollow voice. "Snape. What have you done?"

A flash of gold which shoot up from within the pile of ashes sent a fountain of sparks high into the air. Within seconds, Sirius' and Snape's wands were pointed towards the quivering centre of the pile. Under the gazes of the three men, a dark, solid shape came into view, which shook violently, spun around and, with a loud crack, sprung open. The dark, wet head of an extremely ugly bird with small black eyes and a large hooked beak emerged from within.

"Fawkes," whispered Remus softly. "Fawkes!"

"What happened here, Snape?" Sirius asked in a harsh voice. "Where's Albus? Where's Voldemort?"

Snape glided up to his feet and, ignoring the still kneeling Sirius completely, addressed Remus instead. "The Dark Lord's remains lie here. He was hit by his own Killing Curse, which rebounded from Albus." His hand went automatically up to his forehead, and Remus' eyes widened suddenly as the realisation about what had happened hit him. He shot a glance at Sirius over Snape's shoulder, but Sirius, who kept staring at the ashes with an oddly closed expression on his face, showed no signs of murderous rage.

"Is he dead?" asked Sirius in the same clipped tone. Remus and Snape exchanged a quick look.

"I'm afraid he is, Sirius." Remus was watching Fawkes' attempts to free himself from the remainders of the egg shell closely. "Nobody can survive the Killing Curse, and Albus is no exception."

"I mean Voldemort." Sirius rose to his feet and brushed himself off dry leaves. "How can he be dead? He is immortal." His voice rose threateningly. "He cannot be killed by anyone but Harry! That's the whole point of all our preparations!" Sirius stepped over to Voldemort's remains. "If Voldemort - if it was his own curse that killed him, it only means - that's just exactly the same thing that happened sixteen years ago, when he tried to kill Harry. Don't you see?"

Snape's mouth curled up in disgust as though talking directly to Sirius caused him physical pain. "You've got great faith into Potter's abilities, Black. As much as I hate destroying the high opinion you entertain of him, I've got to point out - as I have done before - that Potter is not in the position of killing the Dark Lord. His performance at the Unforgivables is abysmal. It would require much time-consuming training to make Potter fit for a direct confrontation, and, in case you haven't noticed, we are running out of time."

"If I were you, Snape, I would not run around bragging that your pathological jealousy of Harry has led you to leading Albus Dumbledore into death." Startling at the sound of Sirius' voice, Snape took an involuntary step back. "What did your plan - if, that is, something akin to a plan had ever formed in that greasy head of yours - involve, huh?"

"Still full of your own and Potter's claims, aren't you, Black?" Snape hissed. "Had you listened to my explanation of the potion's properties, you had known that the Restoriatum has been created as a means of destroying the Dark Lord without having to use Potter in a direct fight. This is why Potter's blood was a necessary ingredient. Because, in spite of all your high ideas of Potter's heroism, it is not he who kills the Dark Lord but the magic inherent in Potter's blood."

"Oh yeah? Tell me, Snape, how did you make Voldemort drink your potion, then? I should very much like to know."

Snape's face went livid with rage. "I didn't," he said, barely moving his teeth apart. Sirius took three steps closer, looming over Snape.

"What did you say? I didn't hear you, Snape."

"Stop it, both of you," said Remus sharply. "There's not much time. Aurors will be arriving soon to examine the Dark Mark, and we've got to clean up this mess. Severus, can the Restoriatum still be used?"

Snape lowered his wand that he had been pointing at Sirius' face and directed it to a spot to his right. "Accio Restoriatum." A small vial flew into his hand. "The potion is target-specific," he said, voice falling automatically into lecture mode. Sirius ground his teeth. "It binds the spirit to the body, thus preventing it from escaping when the body is destroyed."

"This body has already been destroyed," Sirius pointed at the ashes. Remus silenced him with a look.

Without so much as a glance at Sirius, Snape continued, "Even though the Dark Lord's spirit has left, it can be summoned back to his last corporeal domain. If the spell is cast correctly, no spirit can resist such a call."

"Do you know how?"

Snape nodded. "It is, however, imperative to summon the spirit back to a living substance."

"What do you mean?" asked Sirius.

"We can't summon a spirit to a pile of ashes. If we had a body, however mangled, it could be done."

"Can it be a magically modified body?" Sirius crouched down to examine Voldemort's ashes.

"What do you mean?"

"A transformed one, Snape," hissed Sirius impatiently. "If I gave this sad heap the structure of a body, would the magic work?"

"I suppose it would. It is the matter that counts. Ashes carry the concentrated power of a person. But you mustn't change the components."

"Leave it to me, Snape." With a wide flourish, Sirius gathered the scattered ashes on one spot, and, tapping lightly against the soft substance, forced it to solidify and assume the form of a-

"Rat, Sirius?" Remus leaned in in disbelief.

"It'll be my pleasure to kill the beast when the spirit returns." Sirius picked up the lifeless body and pocketed it. "Had we not better go?"

"Right," said Remus. "We've got to take - Albus back with us." The three men turned around, facing what they had so far been ignoring. Snape rubbed his forehead again. Remus kneed down to present his open palm to the small, shivering bird which huddled up in the centre of the pile. Its black eyes regarded the outstretched hand suspiciously.

"Hurry up, Remus!" Sirius put a hand on the other man's shoulder. "There's no time to tame a phoenix. Just grab him and let's go."

"He's got to trust us," Remus said softly, coaxing the bird closer. Fawkes crawled onto the presented hand at last, closing his beak around Remus' thumb. In an instant, Snape had stooped down, waving his wand above the ashes and gathering up a softly shimmering trail, which he coiled up with another flick of his wand. It hovered in mid-air, and Snape reached out his hand reverently, as though not daring touch it. Sirius clicked his tongue impatiently, but Remus merely shook his head and put a hand on Sirius' arm. "Let's go," he said quietly.

They had gone a dozen of steps, when Snape caught up with long, confident strides. A side glance at him told Remus that the man had assumed his customary haughty expression. The huge gate swung open to admit them onto the school grounds, and when they were passing between the tall stone pillars topped with giant winged boars, Sirius said in a voice free of malice, "This had better work, Snape."

"It will, Black," Snape answered, his voice equally quiet. "It will."


End file.
